The Long Road Home
by obi-glasses
Summary: It's a long and winding path, as Modo's father discovers. Old grudges may hinder the healing of near-decade-old wounds, or mind control might just kill Modo instead. Can they save their relationship- and each others' lives? Now complete!
1. One

_This first chapter below? That damn near killed me. D8 Longest thing I've ever written in my entire life! _

_Worth it though. Well, ladies and gentlemen, here goes a endeavour that's probably going to exhaust me by the end of the month. At least I had fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading it!_

_~_~!~_~_

Rose groaned, straightening for what seemed to be the thousandth time today. She turned on the faucet, pleased to see that water came running out clear and cold.

And someone banged on the door, spoiling the moment entirely. Rose grumbled angrily and hobbled towards the door, her ankles sore from balancing her whole weight on her toes all day. She opened the door, and stopped short of introducing herself. Instead, she said nothing, her mouth open in a perfect O.

"Miss me, sugar?" the tall mouse in front of her asked. She stared at him dumbly, before she suddenly raised her fist to strike his cheek. He caught her, smiling, and pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"Oh God, where were you?" Rose mumbled. He sighed.

"I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"Okay." She snuggled against him, willing to ignore where he'd been if he stayed with her for just a little while more.

"How are the kids?" he asked, performing a bit of a waltz until he manuevored indoors and shut the door.

"Rackette's doing wonderful. She has two kids, they're wonderful, you should see them."

"And Modo?"

Rose's lower lip trembled. "I don't ... I've got no idea where he is. There was a shift in power and something happened and he was captured by Plutarkians. Oh, God, he could be dead." She started to cry, and he stroked her face.

"He's alive, Rose. We taught that boy well. He's alive."

"I wanna believe that, Gamut, I do, but .. I haven't heard from him in so long. Surely he'd at least try and contact me once."

"Maybe he can't," Gamut suggested. "He might be offworld somewhere, like Saturn or Orion."

"Maybe," Rose said. She tried to wrap her arms around her husband's chest, but only succeeded partly. "Oh, Gamut.. I missed you. We missed you."

"I know, sugar." He held her tightly, closing his eyes. "And you're gonna miss me more."

"Wha-" she started, staring at him in shock when he let her go. "Where are you going?!"

"Sugar, I'm taking a huge risk seeing you like this." He looked down at her, sorrowfully. "For both of us."

"Why? Where are you living?" She pressed her hands to his chest. "Baby, I can't take it if you leave again. Please, please, don't do this to me."

"Sugar..." He pressed his forehead to hers, bending his antenna away from hers. "You gotta accept this one answer- if I tell you where I am, and you come running after me like you always do, damn you, you and Rackette and Modo and our grandchildren will die. All of them. Including me. I've been forced to work for dangerous people, Rose. I can't have you being roped into the same thing."

"Gamut.." Tears ran down Rose's cheeks. "Okay. Okay. I'll wait for you."

"Thank you, sugar." He smiled. "Ssshhh. I have a opportunity coming soon."

"Oh, baby," Rose said, and bent her head against Gamut's chest, sobbing. He held her for a while more, then let her go. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a metal ring, red with a white stone.

"I'm gonna come back for this," he said firmly, pressing it into the palm of his wife's hand. "Keep it safe for me."

"Okay." She smiled through her tears, and waved as he swung onto his bike and rode off. "Damn you. Damn you, you bastard. I love you."

Two years later... 

"Rackette!" Rose shouted. "Did you water those plants like I asked you to?"

"Yes, Momma!" she shouted back from her perch on the roof.

"All right," the elder grey mouse murmured. "Rackette's painting the roof, the dishes are- Oh!" Rose bent down to pick up a leaf from a plant. As she did so, a object fell out of her pocket and onto the floor. She picked the object up, staring at it. Tears starting brimming in her eyes as she placed the red ring back in her pocket.

"Dammit, Gamut.. when are you gonna come back for that?" she wondered out loud.

"Momma!" Rackette yelled from her perch on the roof. "Someone's coming!"

Rose hurried outside, and gasped.

Three bikes were headed straight for her house. This was a normal occurence since she did sell mead and maps as of late, but it was the bikers themselves that startled her.

"Oh God, Modo!" she shouted and ran towards them, with all her might. "Where have you been?!"

"Momma," he said, stopping and getting off his bike. He opened his arms wide and caught her in a bear hug. "Oh Momma, I missed you.."

"You missed your curfew," Rackette said lazily, swaggering up to them.

"Both of you," Rose said, her voice muffled by Modo's bulk. "Quit it."

"Hi, Miss Rose," Throttle said, grinning widely. "It's good to see you again."

"Modo- Modo, let me go, honey. I need to hug other people too." Modo let her go, and she turned to wrap her arms around Throttle and Vinnie. The she noticed the slim woman sitting on Vinnie's bike behind him. "Who are you?"

"Charlene Davidson," the woman said, removing her helmet. Rose held back a gasp at her obviously alien features.

"You're human," the grey mouse said. "In all my years I never thought I'd get to meet a human."

"Hi to you too," Charley said, smiling. Rose hugged her as well, reasoning that if her son associated with this woman she had to be of at least decent standing.

Inside, thirty minutes later, food had been served and eaten with gusto, and Modo was just finishing the story of how they got to Earth, and what happened there.

"So Charlene's your mechanic?" Rackette asked, interested.

"Yep. The best in all of Chi-town." Charlet puffed up slightly at Modo's praise.

"_SuH _humans," Throttle said as he set down his glass of mead.

"Huh?" Charley asked.

"Explain later," the tan mouse said quickly. "This is really good mead, Rose. Where'd you buy the stuff?"

Rose snorted. "No way. I made it."

"Momma!" Modo stared at her, shocked. "That's illegal!"

"I sell it too," Rose added, grinning at the trio of shocked faces. "What? Nobody is going to prosecute me out here. It's the only liquor you can buy that's actually worth what it's priced at."

"Still, it's illegal," Modo said firmly. "You shouldn't be doin' it."

"Hhhmmm," Rose said, in a warning tone. Modo wisely stopped pressing the subject, but he didn't have any more mead either.

Rose sighed, stretching her arms high above her head. "Well, I am full and exhausted. How about you four?"

"We're good," the three Biker Mice and Charley replied in unison.

"I think I'll take this glorious mead and park on the couch, if'n you don't mind," Vinnie said. "Where do you keep your action movies?"

Rose smiled. "Top shelf. Don't spill it or I'll kill you."

"Yes ma'am," Vinnie muttered.

Rose .. rose and headed up the stairs. As she did so, she stumbled, caught herself on the rail, and the red ring again fell from her breast pocket. She picked it up, examined it and put it back in her pocket.

"A wedding ring, Momma?" Modo asked, rising.

"I found it," Rose said quickly. Modo narrowed his eye slightly.

"Are you sure you found it?"

"Yes, Modo." She smiled at him, but it wasn't heartfelt.

"Because if you're getting remarried, I can deal with that. I mean, it's been a while since Dad left and I'm sure he doesn't care-"

"Don't you say things like that about him!" Rose said sharply. She went up to her son, grabbed his chestplate and pulled him down slightly. "Don't _ever _say anything like that again, got it?"

"Yes, Momma," Modo said softly. "I'm sorry."

"Hummm." She whipped around and stalked back up the stairs, reminding herself over and over again that she loved her son.

"What was that about?" Charley asked Modo, coming out from the bathroom. Modo sighed.

"It's a long story," he replied. He headed up the stairs to his old room, leaving a confused Charley to guess as to who 'he' was.

~_~*-=-*~_~

Rose sighed, flopping a arm across her forehead. It didn't suprise her that Modo still harboured anger against his father, but ever since Gamut's visit Rose's love for him had been renewed. She regretted Modo's feelings, but she had long ago learned that Modo would feel whatever the hell he wanted to, and only by serious persuasion would he change his mind. And Rose wasn't in the mood for serious persuasion. She just wanted to sleep...

"Take that back!" Modo shouted from downstairs. There was laughter, grunting, and then the sound of breaking glass. Then ominous silence. If they'd only just keep quiet!

"You're paying for that," Vinnie said.

"You broke it!" Modo exclaimed.

"You started it!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Oh, God." Rose hauled herself out of bed, tromped down the stairs, grabbed two brooms and threw them at Modo and Vinnie. "Now will you keep quiet? You two are worse than toddlers!"

"Sorry," they mumbled.

Rose went back up the stairs, her body complaining in earnest that she'd been working too hard. Again, she flopped down on her bed, rolling over onto her stomach. She closed her eyes, welcoming the invitation of sleep-

"If you hadn't broken it we wouldn't have to clean it up!" Modo bellowed. Rose squeezed her eyes shut, silently cursing her son to remain forever mute. It didn't work.

"If you hadn't started it we wouldn't be having this talk in the first place!" Vinnie shouted back.

"_BE QUIET!_"

There was absolute, peaceful, silence. Rose smiled blissfully, and slept.

~!~

_Cookies for reviews! ^.^_

_Next chapter we get to see how- er, probably shouldn't give it away. heh. Just know that the next chapter won't be nearly as long as this one. _


	2. Two

_Cookies to inuficcrzy and Lord Kelvin!_

_And remember, anonymous reviewers get cookies too! I appreciate everyone's opinion._

~_~

Gamut stretched his arms above his head, enjoying the feel of Earth's sun against his back. He'd spent the last year of his life in the deeps of Mars as a miner- he damn well deserved this.

"Vorschas is probably so pissed right now," he remarked to the hulking figure next to him. Gamut was a large mouse, but Quinn made him seem average-sized.

"Probably?" Quinn repeated, taking off his helmet. "He's having conniption fits as we speak."

"Ain't it a grand life we live?" a small Rat said from behind Quinn. "Pissing off people left and right, escaping from prison.. hell, it's better than fortune and fame."

"I would dispute with you on that last part," Quinn said. He turned, showing his own Rat features- the long muzzle, the small ears, and one eye that tended to drift where it wanted to.

"Whatevah," Shnag'r muttered, flopping down next to Gamut. " 'Ey, spose we could get some Earth tail while we're here?"

"I doubt it. Your ugly mug's not gonna help you knock boots with the locals anytime soon." Gamut ducked as Shnag'r made a swipe for his antennas. "It's true!"

"You ain't gonna have ladies fallin' for you either," Shnag'r replied. "You'd outsize most of 'em 'cept for that runner gal from.. whatsits?"

"Political correctness," Gamut muttered in Shnag'r's ear. "Besides, everyone's forgotten about her.. him.. uh, it."

"True dat," Shnag'r reasoned. "Well, are we gonna get some food at least?"

"We could hold up a Qwik-E-Mart." Quinn rubbed his brass knuckles, a thoughtful look on his dark-furred face.

"Again, we're trying to make nice with the locals, not blast out a helpless convenience store. Even if the prices are atrocious." Gamut aimed a glare at Quinn.

"We could pick-pocket someone on the bus," Shnag'r suggested. "I'm a expert at pick-pocketing."

"Yeah, that was what landed you in the mines, Shnag'r." Gamut plucked a blade of grass and twirled it in his hands. "Well, if the civilized options aren't open, we'll just have to use the unicivilized options."

"Woo-hoo! Hunting trip!" Shnag'r pumped both fists in the air and ran back towards his bike. Gamut shook his head, remembering a certain mouse who had once been just as eager. The grey mouse headed to his bike and gun, intent for now on securing something to satisfy his growling stomach.

~_~+++~_~

"Da-amn," Shnag'r groaned. "I forgot what feeling full was like. It's a good feeling."

"Urp." Quinn laid down next to his bike, looking exhausted. "And the after-dinner nap's the best part."

"Urgh.. I'm not taking a nap." Gamut stood, wavering slightly, and got onto his bike. "Stay here. I'll scout the place out."

"Oh, come on." Quinn rolled over to look at Gamut.

"Nope. I prefer the after-dinner drive. See ya later!" Gamut slipped on his helmet and drove off, navigating onto the highway a mile later.

"_Aaahahahahaooww!_" Startled, Gamut turned his head around to see three bikes, with one red one lurching ahead of the other two.

"Make way, cause the baddest mammajammas from Mars are rulin' this highway!" The rider of the red bike popped a wheelie and pulled up behind Gamut.

Tense, the grey mouse tightened his grip on the handlebars of his bike. His fingers wavered near the button that would activate his weapons, but he knew better than to throw the first punch. Or laser bolt.

"Hey, Modo! Watch this!"

Gamut's mind blanked for a full three seconds. _Modo? My son?! Where?_

And then he noticed he was wavering across the double yellow line, and the three bikers behind him were trying to grab his attention. Gamut pulled back into the proper lane. "Shit.."

"Hey, bro, you okay?" One of them pulled up beside him, a tan youngster with a deep voice. Gamut felt a immediate sense of deja-vu, like he'd met him before- but he was sure he hadn't.

"Fine," the grey mouse said. He darted ahead of them, leaving them behind him, confused. Before Gamut turned onto a residential road, however, he looked behind, hoping maybe he could recongize his son.

He didn't, but he knew the bike. Lil' Hoss had some custom parts attached to her that could never be removed, and her model was rare enough to be ingrained in his memory. Gamut's heart ached as he saw how scarred the mouse riding her was- a metal right arm, a eyepatch, god-knows-how-many memories that could never be forgotten.

Gamut looked back ahead, knowing he couldn't turn back and reveal himself now. For all his gentleness now, he hadn't been the most loving of fathers back when Modo was a teen. He deeply regretted raising his fists at his children now, but he'd been stupid and a drunk, which ran in his side of the family. He knew how much they resented him for his treatment of them. Hell, they were probably glad he was gone.

He bit his lip and took a shortcut through a thick patch of brush, his bike roaring like a lion out of hell, as he struggled to get away from the reminder of his failures.


	3. Three

_Thank you to my reviewers. All two of you. _

_(hint, hint.)_

_Warning: crappy-ass filler chapter ahead. _

~!!!~

Modo didn't know what to make of the encounter. First, he knew of no other Earth deployment of Martian Mice, and yet, that was most certainly a Mouse that they'd encountered on Mile Six. Second, he knew he'd seen that Mouse before, but for the life of him he didn't know where. And third..

That Mouse smelled like Rat.

Modo sighed and set aside the bottle of oil, deeming his bike fully lubricated and clean. He went to the fridge, all the while tumbling the encounter through his head, trying to figure out where he'd seen that mouse before. Finally he felt a panging pain in the back of his head and decided to quit thinking about it before he gave himself a migraine.

"Hey, bro," Vinnie said. "That was weird, what happened on Mile Six, huh?"

"Yeah.. I keep gettin' this feeling that I've met that guy before, but I don't know where." Modo popped open a can of root beer. "He sounded familiar. He looked familiar. He felt familiar. I'm giving myself a headache." The grey mouse pressed the cold can to his forehead and sighed.

"Might be one of your clan," Vinnie suggested.

"No.. it's not quite like that." Modo stared at the tabletop. "At least.. I don't think so."

Vinnie ripped off the top to his can of root beer and downed it in two gulps. "Sorry, bro.. I'm not experienced in that kind of stuff."

Modo sighed and shook his head. "Aaah, whatever. Probably just the heebie-jeebies." He drank his root beer, shoving back the tiny voice that was screaming that it was much, much more than merely the heebie-jeebies.

~_~

"You saw your kid?" Shnag'r repeated.

"Yeah, I did." Gamut twirled a can of root beer around on the makeshift table. "He looked..."

The grey mouse heaved a sigh, and abandoned his train of thought. "Whatever.. What did you guys find?"

"Well, y'see, there was this girl," Shnag'r started. Gamut rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on."

"No, no, we just stole her food, not her wallet or anything else. Besides, I don't think any of us could pass ourselves off as a... three-foot woman with green hair and blue eyes."

"You stole her wallet, didn't you?"

"Well, we gave her all the important stuff back!" Shnag'r exclaimed. "Besides, she can always get a new .. whatsits? A ID card? Yeah!"

Gamut shook his head, not in the mood for Shnag'r's odd way of cheering someone up. He mounted his bike and rode off in the direction of Lake Michigan, intent on at least finding some time alone to think.

!~

_Don't worry, chapter four will be much better than this one. _

_Please review! :)_


	4. Four

_Look! A real chapter! OMG! 8D_

_Thanks to Inuficcrzy and all my international readers. You make me feel happy feelings. ^.^_

~+_+~

Stoker looked at Modo, watching the grey Freedom Fighter demurely wipe down his bike. Stoker knew why the young mouse was so solemn- it was Tuesday, and his father was back from the hospital for the first time. And nothing had improved.

Stoker remembered telling Rose, Rackette and Modo about Gamut's mead-induced collapse. Rose had been distraught, Modo and Rackette silent. When their mother had left, the two suddenly acquired relieved expressions. Stoker knew why, of course. Gamut was a drunkard and a mean one at that, and his hospital trip meant some relief from his fists and his anger.

Stoker noticed how Modo was using his left hand instead of his right.. the tan mouse had heard the argument between father and son, and from Stoker's view, Modo had probably suffered under his father's fist.. again. Lord, when was that mouse going to let up on his son? God knows the boy had already sacrificed the chance of college, what with Gamut practically ordering him to join the Freedom Fighters.

And Rose. That poor woman, now balancing three boxes of medical supplies while limping.

Whoa, wait. Limping?

"Rose, wait up a second," Stoker called. She set her boxes down.

"Yes?"

"Hey, yeah, I just noticed that limp of yours. You .. fall down the.. stairs or something?"

Rose looked down at her feet and grinned nervously. "Yeah, fell down the stairs. Clumsy me!" She picked up her boxes again, shooed Stoker away when he tried to help her, and went out.

Stoker shook his head. He'd waited for Gamut to fix himself long enough. The ruddy-tan mouse went to his bike and slipped on his helmet.

**~~**~~**

"Don't tell me what my family's feeling," Gamut growled. Stoker winced at the smell of mead on his breath.

"I have to. You're hurting them, Gamut. You know how your son's grades are falling? How he can't look you in the eyes?"

"Sh' cowaaard," Gamut muttered. "Slinkin' 'round like a.. a.. Rat."

"You callin' your son a Rat?" Stoker asked firmly.

"Shuddup."

"They think you don't love them, Gamut! Look at them! Look at your _son!_" Stoker roared, grabbing the grey mouse by his lapels and shaking him. "They're terrified of you! Hell, Rose is worried that you might take up a knife and- and-"

"Let go of me," Gamut said.

"_You stupid IDIOT!" _Stoker threw him on the floor, planting a foot in the middle of his chest. "Do you have _any idea whatsoever?!_"

"Get out!" Gamut shouted back. He grabbed Stoker's ankle and threw him against the wall. There was a moment as Stoker regained his breath, and then stood.

"Fine," the ruddy-tan Freedom Fighter growled. "Go wallow in your home-made pit of misery and urine. Go beat up your kids and yell at your wife. I just hope you'll wake up someday, and realize just what a lonely shit-hole you've made for yourself." Stoker went out the door, leaving a newly sober Gamut in his wake.

"Damn it." Gamut suddenly punched a hole in the wall, infuriated that Stoker was right. "_DAMN_ him!"

_Isn't he just a bastard? Damn, he's fun to write! :) _

_This isn't exactly the end of this particular sub-plot- I have yet to explain how Gamut ends up enslaved by the Big Bad Vorschas. Don't worry, Gamut explains that in a later chapter._

_Reviews adored, bronzed and mounted on the wall next to my computer. 8D_


	5. Five

_Much thanks to inuficcrzy, and all my readers. :) _

_~_~_~_

"Ahahahahaooow!" Vinnie shouted, riding up to Throttle and Modo. "Beat that, Modo!"

"Sure," the grey mouse remarked casually. "It's a pleasure." He grinned at Vinnie's indignated look and sped off, approaching the oil slick with its one bottle. He whipped Lil' Hoss around and tightened the brakes, grinning when he saw how wonderfully close he'd gotten.

"I win," Modo said.

"Humph." Vinnie folded his arms and razzberried loudly. Charley chuckled from behind him.

**CRASH!**

Three bikes burst through a brick wall, coming to a stop in front of the Biker Mice. Vinnie and Throttle drew their pistols defensively, but nobody dared fire, just yet.

"Whooooops." One of the bikers droned, realizing just what they'd stumbled into. "Sorry, folks.. didn't mean to intrude."

"Who the hell are you?" Vinnie asked.

"Tourists," a smaller biker said hesitantly.

Modo examined the two largest and smallest bikers. Their oddly-shaped helmets stood out as being longer than a human's- longer, even, than his own.

The grey mouse's lip curled up in disdain. Rats!

"I didn't know they were issuing Rats interplanetary passes," Modo said with a note of haughtiness.

"They aren't." The largest of them inclined his head. "We escaped from the Anthien Vars prison mine.

All three Mice winced. The Anthien Vars mine was known for its high mortality rate.

"What are your names?" Throttle asked.

"Quinn, and Shnag'r."

"And... ?" Throttle looked at the third biker, who was keeping a position inbetween the other two.

Gamut internally screamed in terror, and externally took off his helmet. Modo's eye widened in shock.

"Gamut Maverick." The aforementioned inclined his head towards Modo. "I... It's good to see you again, Modo."

"Wha.. What.." Modo stood, staring at him. "How.. What did.."

"Modo.. listen to me." Gamut stood and went to him, holding his son's shoulders gently. "Look, I know I haven't been the best father to you, and I could've.."

His words started to fade to a buzz in Modo's ears. All he remembered was what had happened when he was fifteen- his broken wrist and ankle, his sister's personality change.. and his mother's limping.

The way he felt when his father shouted at him.

How his mother reacted whenever her husband raised a hand at her.

Blind rage started burning in his chest. He couldn't listen to _that_- that was not _his_-

"..I wanna see if we can at least patch things up," Gamut finished. He looked down at his son.

"Get out of my sight," Modo whispered fiercely. He didn't dare say anything else that he might really regret.

Gamut's heart fell to his feet. He let go of Modo's shoulders and sighed.

"If that's what you want," he said.

Modo didn't say anything- instead, he got on Lil' Hoss and rode off, motioning for his bros to follow him. Charley aimed a sympathetic look at Gamut, and the despondent mouse bowed his head.

"Man," Shnag'r murmured, clapping Gamut's shoulder. "That bites, man."

"You said things weren't good, but you didn't say they were that bad," Quinn said.

"I didn't think they were this bad," Gamut muttered. "This sucks. This royally sucks shit."

Shnag'r and Quinn both snorted. "You got that right. What'er you gonna do now?" the smaller Rat asked.

"I'll.. " Gamut shook his head. "I'll keep goin'. Can't do much else right now."

"That's the spirit, Big Sir," Shnag'r said in a jolly tone. "You just keep haulin' on."

"Yeah." Gamut looked off in the direction of his son.

So close. Goddamnit, he'd been so close.

_Ouch... that's gotta hurt._

_Got a opinion? I'd love to hear it! :D Please review!_


	6. Six

_Whoo-hoo! Chapter six!_

_Contains battle scenes that I'm not really sure are realistic. If anyone can give me pointers, I'd really appreciate it. _

_~_~_

Modo huffed, shifting his feet as Charley manuvored in front of him to take up a spot on the floor. Normally he'd at least say "excuse me" or move over on the couch to give her some room, but he was extremely preoccupied at the moment. And he wasn't in the best of moods either.

The latest contestant on American Idol started to sing "Arms Wide Open", going off-key several times before Simon Cowell finally held up a hand and-

**SMASH!**

The TV went flying backwards and exploded against the wall. It being the bros' TV and not hers, Charley wasn't mad, but she was startled.

"Did the TV do something wrong?" she asked, turning to look at Modo. The grey mouse sighed.

"No," he said gruffly.

"Okay. Would you like to talk about it, or would you like to break more furniture?"

Modo leaned forward, his chest heavy with his inner dilemma. "It's .. I.. You know what happened yesterday?"

"With that mouse?" Charley did indeed remember. It had shocked her at the time that Modo had been so rude, but he certainly had to have a reason.

"Yeah. He's, um.. he's my father."

Her jaw dropped open into a perfect O. "Your _father?_"

"Uh-huh." Modo sighed forlornly.

"What happened between you two?" Charley asked, and immediately regretted it when she saw the look that came over his face. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't pry."

"No, no, it's okay. I probably.. I probably looked weird when .. that happened." Modo stared at his feet. _But he __deserved__ it, _the grey mouse reminded himself. _For all he did to us, he deserved a lot more than that. _

"Hey, bros! Limburger sign!" Throttle shouted. All three of the Biker Mice quickly put on their helmets and rushed to their bikes, shouting their signature battle cry of "Let's rock... _and RIDE!_" before bursting through the wall and barrelling off towards Limburger Tower. Charley sighed.

~_~

Gamut followed them, taking several shortcuts in case they happened to suspect him.

He was proud of his son. In spite of all that he'd been put through- losing a arm and eye, surviving where others did not, and the last four years of his life in general- Modo was still playful, he was still vibrant. If you didn't know him well, you wouldn't think he was a veteran of a war that could contest with Earth's Holocaust.

He darted through several lines of traffic, so as to get a better view of his son's companions. Now he remembered where he'd heard the tan mouse before- he sounded and looked a lot like his father, who Gamut had gone to school with (and beat up several times while arguing over girls).

"Whoooaaahahahaha!" The white mouse shouted happily, dodging red laser blasts from the approaching goon buggies. The mice and the goons exchanged fire for a while, before Vinnie finally got bored and threw a grenade in the middle of the opposing squad.

There was a flowery, orange-and-red explosion. Mooks went flying, dirt was kicked up, and when it settled, the Biker Mice plus one hidden mouse were the only ones left in visible sight.

"_That's_ how we roll," Modo said proudly. "With explosions and tail-kickin'!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to slow down, my docecaphonic dimwits," a deep, dark voice said.

"Limburger!" Throttle shouted. "We know about what's going down in the red zone. You're not gonna get away with that, not if we have anything to do with it."

"Oh, but I shall." Limburger got out of his limo, hidden behind two buggies. "I've made sure of your demise, with my new weapon." Greasepit got out of the drivers' seat and raised a supremely-tricked-out bazooka at the trio of Martians. "The Sonic Blaster uses energy, sound and mere air to blast anything out of its way. It can put a dent in Plutarkian steel. I'd just _love _to see what it does to your thick skulls. Greasepit, fire at will!"

"B-but, boss, I'd rather fire at the mices!" the oily goon complained. Limburger facepalmed.

"Fire at them whenever you want to," the Plutarkian defined.

"Oh, okay!" Greasepit laughed and aimed. "Say nighty-night!"

The ensuing blast ripped apart the building behind the Biker Mice. Unfortunately for Greasepit, the mice had better reflexes than most Olympians, and they were out of the way quickly.

"Man! Karbunkle's outdone himself this time!" Vinnie exclaimed. "That thing nearly took off my fender!"

Gamut winced when he heard the impending explosion. That had been way too close to himself. He darted through a pile of rubble and took up a spot in a alleyway, hiding behind a dumpster.

_FWOOMPH!_

A badly-aimed shot took apart a buggy in a grand explosion. Pieces of mook and vehicle went everywhere, landing on everyone.

"Eeeeeeewww," Throttle muttered, wiping a piece of brain off the crankcase of his bike. "Now that's just nasty."

"My blaster's not doing anything," Vinnie complained.

"That thing's too strong for a long-range shot to take it out, and Greasepit's too slippery to let us get a good shot in. Circle Around three."

"No, no, no, four! Four!" Vinnie shouted.

"Three, Vincent!" Throttle shouted back, dodging a shot that was entirely too close to his shoulder. "NOW!"

_Circle Around three? Where's Modo going to go? Damnit! _Gamut grimaced and grabbed his blaster. "I hate Freedom Fighter codes," he muttered as he went off after his son. "And I'm getting too old for this shit."

Modo burst through a wooden wall, the gunfire and laserfire loud enough to rattle someone's teeth. That is, if they weren't Martian.

_FOOMPH!_

And the young grey mouse went flying off his bike. He slammed against the brick wall of a building, feeling somewhat lucky that it was his right side and not his left.

Modo stayed there for a second, until he was reasonably sure nothing was severely broken. He tried to stand up-

"_Argh!_"

Gamut perked up at the cry. "Modo!" Abandoning his hiding spot and his bike, the elder mouse ran over to his son.

"My ankle," Modo gasped. "Hh- hey! What are you still doing here?!"

"It's not like I have anywhere else to go," Gamut replied. "Grab my hand."

"I don't need your help!" Modo snapped.

"Hey, even if you don't want to be my son, I'm still your father, and I have to at least make sure you're okay. So grab my hand, damnit!" Gamut held out his hand. Modo opened his mouth to say something, and then he shouted in pain as a tranquilizer dart flew into his shoulder.

"Dammit," the younger mouse gasped. "Get this outta me!"

"Okay, okay, just a-"

"Don't even think about it," a wheezing, high-pitched voice said. Gamut turned to see a small, large-headed, human-looking .. person holding a large rifle with 'Knok-Em-Out' printed on the side.

"Say bye-bye," he said with a grin, and fired. Gamut felt a sudden sting of pain in his collarbone, collapsed next to his son, and then passed out.

~_~

_Bwahahaha! Cliffhanger!_

_Reviews, as always, are welcome. (rubs hands excitedly)_


	7. Seven

_Whoo-hoo, chapter seven!_

_As always, thanks to inuficcrzy and all my readers. You give me fuzzy warm happy feelings inside._

_~_~_

"Unf..."

Gamut winced, his eyes flickering open for only a second before he closed them again against the sharp white light. "Ow."

"Aaah, so the prisoner awakes," a silky-smooth, shiver-inducing voice said. "Welcome to the world of the living."

"Wha... ?" Gamut opened his eyes. "Oh, lord. That's not a pretty sight to wake up to."

Limburger chuckled. "So they say."

"Where's Modo?" Gamut asked. He sat up, feeling cold metal against his wrists and legs.

"Oh, the other malcontentous mouse? He's being studied as we speak. Would you like to watch?"

"_No,_" Gamut said pointedly. The last thing he wanted to see was his flesh and blood being 'studied'.

"Unfortunately that was a rhetorical question. Now..." Limburger went to a control panel attached to the wall facing Gamut and pressed a button. A panel of wall rose, revealing Modo strapped down to a table and Karbunkle standing over him, with a malicious look on his face.

"Now.. let us play a game." Limburger grinned.

_Oh God. Oh GOD. _Gamut bit his lip.

~_~

"I looked everywhere," Vinnie said worriedly. "I found Hoss, I didn't find Modo."

"Well, I found a tranquilizer dart.." Throttle stared at the needle in his palm contemplatively. "This smells like one of Limburger's plots."

"If he's done anything to Modo I swear I'll..." Vinnie trailed off, clenching and unclenching his fists.

_Thwunk!_

A dart with a note attached flew into the wall just beside Throttle's head. The startled mouse ducked for a moment, then realized that it wasn't lethal. He grabbed it and read the note out loud.

"Don't try and rescue your friend, it's too late for him. If you want his carcass..." Throttle's voice cracked. He paused, heaved a breath, and continued. "I-if you want his .. body.. don't interfere with me for a week. After that.. after.." Throttle tossed it aside and leaned against the wall. "Oh my God," he mumbled in tune with Vinnie.

"Wha.. nn.." Vinnie got out. Finally he took off his helmet and threw it aside, and hid his eyes behind his hands.

"Hi, guys," Charley said, pulling up on her bike. "Hey- what's wrong?"

"Lookit this," Throttle muttered, handing Charley the note. She read it through several times, her face becoming more and more shocked.

"Oh.. my.. " She clasped both hands over her mouth, her eyes wide open. "Modo's..?"

"C'mere, babe," Vinnie said, wrapping his arms around her. She gripped his bandoleers and sobbed quietly, while Throttle gripped his white-furred bro's shoulder and hung his head.

~_~

_"I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!"_ Gamut screamed furiously, straining madly against his restraints. He closed his eyes tightly, hearing his son shout in agony again. _Damn Karbunkle, _he thought. _DAMN him!_

"How about now?" Limburger said. Gamut held back a answering roar of fury, and instead grit his teeth in anger.

"I. Know. Nothing." He ground out.

"Hmmm. Well, that's just too bad. Greasepit- take this dissapointing person back to his cell."

The oily goon raised a gun. "My pleasure, Mister Limboiger sir."

"Wait! What about Modo?!" Gamut exclaimed. Limburger chuckled.

"Oh, he'll be fine.. for now." Limburger pressed a button, and Gamut's restraints drew back into the metal chair.

"Get up," Greasepit said firmly. Gamut snarled at him, but complied, seeing that refusing would get his head blown off.

Greasepit prodded him in the back, insulting him occasionally until they got to Gamut's cell.

"Nighty-night, mousie," Greasepit said, and snorted. He left the grey mouse alone with his thoughts.

He sighed, rubbing his upper arms in a attempt to calm himself down. He had to admit it, he was absolutely terrified, and not a little angry. But he couldn't afford to show weakness, not now.

Gamut laid down on his side, closed his eyes and tried ever so hard to relax. It didn't work.

He rolled over onto his back, staring blankly at the ceiling, and let his mind drift back to that one day..

_"Daddy, Daddy!" Modo squealed. "Look what Stoker gave me!"_

_Gamut sat up, turned a bit to look at his son, who was proudly holding a blue-and-white helmet in his hands. "Ah, your first helmet! Aren't you a little young?" the older mouse asked, looking pointedly at Stoker. The tan mouse shrugged and grinned innocently._

_"No! I'm a big boy!" Modo insisted. "Can we ride Betty, please? Please?"_

_"Weeellll..." Gamut said, just for show. He knew what his answer was going to be the moment Modo said 'ride'._

_"Please, Daddy? I really, really wanna try out my helmet! Please!" Modo hopped up and down excitedly. Gamut aimed a somewhat amused look at his tan comrade and finally said, "Yes."_

_"YAY!!" Modo shrieked, overjoyed. He hopped (actually, climbed onto, since he was still somewheres around four feet) Betty-Lucy, Gamut's beloved bike._

_"Watch the paint-job," Stoker warned. "Daddy doesn't like it when his bike's polish is all scuffy and iiiiiicky!" The tan mouse jumped aside as Gamut made a swipe towards his boots. _

_"Silence, heathen," the grey mouse said, chuckling. "Now, Modo, you know how to grip the handles, right?"_

_"Uh-huh!" the young boy said eagerly. _

_"And you know how to keep your back straight, right?"_

_"Uh-huh!"_

_"All right, then." Gamut tightened his grip on Betty's right handle. "Hang oonnnnnnn!"_

_"WHEEE!!!" Modo shouted happily. Gamut held back a snort. Only a child would consider thirty-five miles a hour to be something to 'whee' over. Still.._

_"Faster, faster!" Modo shouted. Gamut grinned. This boy was going to become one heck of a rider, if his current reaction said any-_

Gamut was jerked out of his day-dreaming by the sudden clang of the cell door opening. He didn't have time to try and prop the door open- but he did catch his son before the exhausted mouse fell to the floor.

"Modo! Are you okay?" Gamut asked, curling his arms around his son.

"Mhhhh.." The tired mouse didn't speak, instead raising a hand to grip his father's tightly.

"Sshh, don't try and talk. You're gonna be fine. You're gonna be juuuust fine." Gamut stroked Modo's forehead, silently begging whatever gods there might be that his words would be proven true.

~_~

_I could use some plot bunnies for the next chapter- I have something coming along, but not how I want it to._

_As always... reviews wanted and cherished. :D_


	8. Eight

_Woo-hoo, chapter eight!_

_There's some blood and cursing ahead, so watch out. _

///////

Quinn growled angrily, pacing around back and forth.

"Oh, calm down. He's probably just talkin' with his kid." Shnag'r filed his claws absently, seemingly unworried by his comrade's tardiness.

"He would've told us if he was going to be late," Quinn muttered. "One more hour, you heathen. Then we go looking to kick your ass."

"We? I'd rather just stay here while you upend Chicago." Shnag'r looked up at his fellow Rat. "I'm not exactly the- hey, is that a bike?"

A rusty-brown and green bike crashed through the underbrush, bleeping worriedly.

"Crap," Quinn cursed. "He doesn't go anywhere without his bike." The towering Rat brought up the bike's map schematic. "Gamut dropped hisself off around Limburger Tower. Grab your helmet, we're going after him."

"Aw, damn.." Shnag'r muttered under his breath.

~_~

"And how is your research going, my dear malevolent malpraticiant?" Limburger asked Karbunkle. The small scientist brought up a schematic of the Martian brain on his computer screen.

"The mind-control research is going along sluggishly, but neuron deactivation experiments are promising. However, there is something of a more.. interesting note."

"And what would that be?" Limburger raised a eyebrow as Karbunkle typed something in, and two DNA strands appeared onscreen. "A paternal DNA test," the Plutarkian read off the screen.

"With positive results. Apparently that half-metal hulk is the son of the other mouse." Karbunkle rubbed his black-gloved hands together, a twistedly pleased look on his face.

"Ah. A most opportunistic occasion, I must say. The gods favor me today." Limburger grinned hideously. "There was something else of a good note you wanted to tell me...?"

"Vorschas of Anthien Vars wishes to-" Karbunkle didn't have time to finish his sentance, as both benefactor and beneficior heard the roar of bike engines nearby.

"Curses! Foiled again!" Limburger slammed his fist on the nearby counter. "Damn them!"

And two bikers crashed through the window. Limburger nearly shot both of them, before realizing that they weren't Biker Mice, but rather Biker Rats.

"Hey, flab-ass," Quinn growled. "We want our mouse back. Now."

"We?" Shnag'r repeated. Quinn narrowed his eyes at the smaller Rat. "Oh, yeah! We!"

"I'm afraid they're both indisposed, at the moment. Would you like to speak with a representative?"

"No, we'd like to speak with them directly." Quinn raised a slim, silver-colored laser rifle. "NOW."

"Oh, very well then. Karbunkle..." Limburger motioned to raise the panel behind the mad scientist. Karbunkle pressed a button, and the panel rose.

"Holy..." Quinn muttered.

"Whoa," Shnag'r murmured.

A young grey mouse (Gamut's son, Quinn reasoned) was strapped down to a thick metal table, a tube in his mouth, feeding nitrous oxide gas to keep the mouse relaxed. An assistant to Karbunkle was carefully attaching two electrodes to the mouse's forehead, using a small drill in order to get the needles into his brain. Blood streamed from the newly-formed wounds, and the young mouse stirred in his laughing-gas-induced stupor.

"What are you doing to him?" Quinn hissed angrily.

"Research," Limburger deadpanned. "If you don't leave, it will become less research and more ... fun." The Plutarkian smiled eerily. Quinn tightened his grip on the left handle of his bike, furious but unable to do anything about it. Finally, he turned and rode out the window, but Shnag'r stayed behind for a moment.

"You're sick, you know that?" he said. "Sick. Really freakin' sick."

"And rich, too." Limburger handed him a small card. "If you ever need a job..."

Shnag'r snatched it away and rode off after his fellow Rat. Limburger chuckled.

"Watch the phone," he said to Karbunkle. "We may have a prospective employee in the next few days."

~_~

"Hey, Charley," Vinnie murmured, reaching down to gently caress the mechanic's cheek. "Me and Throttle are gonna go and take a ride. You want anything?"

"Uhm..." She blinked, drawing herself out of a mournful contemplation. "Yeah, could you get me a cherry .. something?"

"Sure." He pecked her forehead. "Don't go anywhere. We're gonna be right back."

"Okay," she mumbled. Vinnie left, and Charley drew her pillow up onto her chest.

Staring at a silent TV wasn't exactly fun, so she turned it on.

"_No, Mister Bomb. I expect you to die._"

"Damnit," Charley muttered. Wonderful timing for a James Bomb movie to come on. Just wonderful.

_///////_

_If anyone's got a idea on what the next chapter should be, I'd greatly appreciate it. :)_


	9. Nine

"So he's tryin' to get you to take a job with him?" Quinn repeated. Shnag'r nodded.

"Yeah, man. And I would've.. " He sighed. "Man, lookit these figures!" He handed the card to the tall Rat. Quinn's eyebrows nearly flew off of his head.

"Good lord." He handed the card back to the smaller Rat. "Maybe you should take the job."

"Are you insane?!" Shnag'r yelped. "You see what he did to Gamut's kid? That sick bastard don't got a soul!"

"Not like that," Quinn said hurriedly. "If he thinks you're on his side, he'll get slack with you. We might be able to smuggle Gamut or his kid out."

"Hmm. Yeah, that's a thought." Shnag'r rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Of course, we're probably gonna need backup." Quinn thought out loud.

"Where are we gonna get backup?"

Quinn pondered this thought for a moment before raising his hand. "We do some detective work," he said, "and we find those other Martians here in Chicago."

~_~

Gamut yawned widely, shifting slightly so that his arms wouldn't fall asleep. Modo was still cradled, somewhat akwardly, in Gamut's arms, and the young mouse had finally fallen asleep after five minutes of trying to get the black box off of (actually, out of, but we'll talk about that later) his head.

"Man, that thing is ugly," Gamut muttered. He brushed his fingertips against it, and then jerked his hand back when his felt his antennas tingle. "Whoops."

"Hey, youse," a deep voice said. "Geddup."

Gamut turned and sneered at the oil-dripping goon standing just outside his cell. "What if I don't?"

"Then I gets ta use this on both of youse." Greasepit raised a tranquilizer gun. "Get 'im up too."

_Fuck. _Gamut shook the sleeping mouse gently. "Come on, son. Wakey-wakey."

"Huh?" Modo blinked sleepily. "Where are we goin'?"

"I don't know. On your feet, Modo." Gamut pulled his son up and gently pushed him towards the door.

The two Mice headed down the hall, towards what Limburger lovingly called the "crafts room". Greasepit banged open the door and directed Gamut through a different door, leading to a room with a window to the "crafts room".

"Ah, my dear metallically-enhanced mouse. So good to see that Doctor Karbunkle's experiments left no.. permanent damage." Limburger stepped out of the shadows, a smile plastered to his face.

"What'm I doin' here?" Modo asked, feeling somewhat woozy. Limburger chuckled ominously.

"Look," the Plutarkian said. Modo looked in the window, and gasped softly.

Gamut was restrained in a chair, struggling furiously. Karbunkle stood to his left, holding a reciprocator saw and holding back evil laughter. Greasepit gripped the mouse's left arm firmly, drawing it straight, and Karbunkle held the roughly-purring saw a inch above dark grey fur. Gamut's eyes widened, and he went silent.

"You," Modo choked out. "What are you...?"

"I've decided to take advantage of a most fortuitous circumstance," the fat Plutarkian said. "I believe that the least-gory thing for you to do now is tell me what the emergency contact code for your bikes is."

"Never," Modo said. Even his still-partially-drugged mind could see where this was going. If Limburger got the emergency contact codes, he could control the bikes with no way for the Biker Mice to counteract him except for a well-aimed laser shot to the AI chip.

"Well, that's just too bad." Limburger tapped a button on his collar, and Karbunkle lowered the saw just enough to draw blood. Gamut grit his teeth, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Modo bit his lip, his heart pounding. This was when he really, really hated being his father's son. Any normal son would have almost no trouble handing over the codes, but Modo? Not him. He still disliked the man he used to call "Dad".

"Well, Mister Mouse?" Limburger prompted. "What shall it be?"

Modo stared at his father. He didn't know if the older mouse could see beyond his pane of glass, but if he could, Modo needed something to spurn him towards a decision. A extremely pitiful look might do it.

No looks were forthcoming, except for tightly-closed blue eyes and several veins near to popping. Modo's tail lashed angrily as he fought to make a decision.

"I warn you, I'm not a patient fish." Again, Limburger signalled to Karbunkle. The saw was lowered further, and this time, blood went flying several directions. Gamut said something Modo couldn't make out and curled his hands into fists.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you," Modo said quickly. His heart fell to his knees, and he leaned forward, pressing his metal hand to the glass.

"A very good decision." Limburger pressed a different button and Karbunkle set down the saw. Gamut sagged in the chair, relieved.

~_~

"Anything?" Quinn droned tiredly. Shnag'r shook his head.

"I looked everywhere you told me to. All the Shake Shacks, the Dairy Queens, and the Burger Kings. Nothin'."

"Damn," Quinn muttered.

"Anywhere you think we should look, leader-man?" Shnag'r asked, sitting down on his bike heavily.

"Hmmm.." Quinn leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his bike's console. He hit the radio button, and a male voice came on.

"..._And now to sports with S.J Nielson! Chicago's Quigly Field is being remodeled for the upcoming NFL games after inspectors found health code violations.."_

"That might be it," Quinn said.

"Aw, damn, more legwork.." Shnag'r groaned.

_Bahahaha! Near-amputations!_

_..not really as exciting as you thought, huh? eehhh._

_As always, ideas, reviews and favorites are extremely appreciated!_


	10. Ten!

"This is it," Quinn said. "The Quigly Field Scoreboard."

"Damn, that thang is fugly," Shnag'r remarked. Quinn snickered. "So where's the door?"

"It might be at the top of that ladder there," Quinn deadpanned. The smaller Rat behind him growled something insulting and leapt onto the ladder, just beside the bleacher, and started to propel himself upwards.

"Aren't you supposed to go one rung at a time?" Quinn asked. Shnag'r snorted.

"That's for wussies," he declared. He reached the top of the ladder, nearly fifty feet above the ground, and gulped. "Damn, this is way far up..."

He banged his fist against the door, yelling "Yo! Pizza delivery!"

After a moment, the door opened, revealing a white Mouse who looked very displeased.

"We didn't order pizza," he said. Shnag'r blinked.

"You didn't?"

"We wanna talk," Quinn called up. The mouse stared down at him, then shook his head and went back inside, leaving the door open.

"We sposed to go in?" Shnag'r wondered out loud.

After a minute, the white mouse came back with another one, taller and tan-colored.

"What did you wanna talk about?" the tan mouse asked. Shnag'r shrugged.

"Well, y'see.."

~_~

"He what?" Throttle said confusedly.

"Oh, come on. No blood, no nuthin' not even hair." Shnag'r threw his hands up in the air. "His lies are tissue paper for someone who's got at least the smarts of a rock."

"Hey..." Vinnie growled.

"Not to insinuate that your friend and leader isn't smart enough to be in his position," the biege-furred Rat said quickly. "It's just that it's kinda a flimsy lie, if'n you think about it."

"Hmm." Throttle rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Are you seriously gonna believe these guys?!" Vinnie asked sharply. "I mean, come on! They're Rats!"

Quinn stiffened slightly. God, he hated it when Mice made a issue of his race.

"Rats who saw your comrade, alive and.. not exactly well, but alive." Shnag'r puffed up. "If you want more evidence, our bikes have tape recorders. I'll letcha extract the video from my bike."

"Fine." Throttle motioned to Vinnie. "Call Charley-girl and ask her to come over, okay? Don't tell her what's going on, just say that we have a problem and we need her over here fast as she can."

"Got it." Vinnie flipped open his cellphone a la Captain Kirk-style and speed-dialed the mechanic.

~***~

Gamut paced in a tight circle, his tail twitching madly with agitation. Occasionally he'd gently stroke the bandage on his right arm, and grunt whenever he flexed the muscles of his upper right arm.

They'd taken Modo a hour earlier, just as the young mouse was finally releasing the built-up fear from the last 24 hours. He'd talked casually, about his bros and the human mechanic, Charlene. Gamut had been hard-pressed not to wrap his son in a bear-hug- god, he was so damn proud of his boy...

There was a clang-clang as the door to the cell opened. It wasn't Greasepit this time; they needed the empty-headed grease-gusher down with the Doctor, to help control Modo. Or so Gamut had overheard.

The goon made a motion, and Gamut followed him, seeing no purpose in trying to disobey someone who was packing a black-and-red ZZ-34-A Excelsior Flame-Spittoon. Those things stung.

They headed up a flight of stairs, going past at least three floors before heading down a long, brick-walled hallway, filled with the smell of chlorine. Finally they reached a door, where the goon placed his hand against it. After a moment, the door hummed and then swung open. Gamut's jaw dropped open.

Modo was strapped against the wall, his eye rolled so far up into his head that you could only see a sliver of white. The black box had cables trailing from it to a large computer console currently being attended to by the Doctor. Limburger stood to the side, in front of Greasepit, with a smile on his fat visage.

"Wonderful, isn't it? The Doctor is almost akin to me in his genius sometimes."

"What...?" Gamut stared at him, eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Mind control, my perilous parent, mind control! You see, I once tried to use one of the Biker Mice against the other two, but unfortunately the female mechanic managed to get through to the worthless wombat and destroy my plans completely. So, I have formed a truly terrifying plot." Limburger nodded towards the Doctor, and the small scientist slammed a switch sideways.

Modo inhaled, his eye opening sharply. He raised his metal arm, the laser barrel activated, and he shot a hole that nearly grazed Gamut's antenna and burned a hole in the wall behind him.

"Through control of the forebrain and hormones, I have ensured that no lurking trust or friendship-" Limburger shuddered at the terms "-will disrupt my devious deviations."

Gamut blinked, his mind just catching up with the full implications of what Limburger had just did. "You're using his mind..."

"Yes, how astute of you." Limburger snorted.

_His MIND, _Gamut realized. _The one.. sacred place.._ The grey mouse's fists curled. _The one private place, where only one who's been granted permission can enter._

"You filthy, rotten, stinking piece of _shit,_" Gamut growled. "You _dare _violate him like that?"

"Hmmm?" Limburger looked up from the console. "Oh, come now. Don't get all 'dedicts' or whatever on me."

"_YOU SICK SON OF A BITCH!_" Gamut roared, pouncing on the Plutarkian. "I'm going to make you- _urgh!_"

Gamut grunted and cried out when Greasepit gripped his calves and then threw him against a wall, hard enough to bruise the mouse's ribs.

"Get him!" Limburger shouted furiously. "Oh, I'll never get that mouse smell out of my suit!"

"C'mere, mousey," Greasepit growled. "Let's make this short n' sweet."

"Fuck you," Gamut hissed.

Wrong thing to say.

Greasepit slammed a fist straight into the middle of Gamut's chest, thoroughly knocking the wind out of the mouse. Once he was down, it was easy to kick him several times in the head and stomach, and then pick him up by his neck and slam his head against the wall- once- twice, dear God, three times- and then Gamut saw a opening through his rapidly-swelling-shut left eye and took it. He slid on a patch of his assailant's namesake and then darted towards the window.

_Wait! Why am I going towards the- oh SHIT!_

Too late to stop, Gamut crashed into the window, breaking it and then falling.

And screaming.

Exactly like a little girl.

Before he landed, quite harshly, into a dumpster.

"Ow," Gamut muttered softly. "_Ow._"

~****~

_Whoo! He escapes, with his life (but not nessecarily his dignity!). _

_What happens to Modo now? .. honestly I don't have a clue. Ideas, concrit- hell, reviews in general, even flames, are very welcome. (oh, and BTW, this chapter was partially inspired by Chapter 26 of inuficcrzy's The First series. Go read it. Seriously. :D)_


	11. Eleven

"I told you," Shnag'r said smugly to the Biker Mouse riding beside him. Vinnie grunted.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll believe it when I see it." Charley gently tightened her grip around his waist, a silent message to shut up. Vinnie went quiet.

The group of four went around a corner, and then Quinn came to a screeching halt, suddenly alert of someone's nearby presence.

"What the hell are you doing?" Throttle asked sharply. Quinn jerked a hand up, and then everyone heard a loud coughing noise.

"Gamut!" Shnag'r exclaimed.

"Over here," the grey mouse moaned from behind a dumpster. Quinn jumped off his bike and ran over to the wounded Martian.

"Man, you look crappy," Shnag'r said as Quinn hauled Gamut up and over to the Rat's bike. Charley stood and went over to the Martian, checking his wounds.

"What happened?" she asked. Gamut made a hacking noise, coughed up some blood and said "Limburger sicced his goons on me."

"Did you see Modo?" Vinnie asked hopefully. Gamut nodded.

"Yeah, I saw him, but he's in bad shape. I gotta go ba- ow!" Gamut yelped when Charley slapped the bandage on his right arm.

"You're staying here," she said firmly. "You're in no shape to be rescuing anyone right now."

"But.." Gamut groaned.

"Sshh. Vinnie, hand me some gauze, willya?" She took the gauze and wrapped it around Gamut's head, carefully covering up the cut above his left eye.

"What'd they do to him?" Vinnie persisted.

"Mind control stuff. You know, cables into your brain type." Gamut winced. "Lady, do you have to poke my chest so hard?"

"Yes, I do. You have some bruised ribs, but as far as I can tell, nothing's broken." She took off the bandage covering the cut on his arm and put a new one on. "What happened to your arm?"

"Long story," he said.

"Cables into his brain?" Throttle repeated.

"I told you, mind control. Damn effective mind control too. He nearly shot off my antennas."

"Getting him back's not gonna be easy then," Quinn remarked.

"You ain't seen me in action much, have you?" Gamut said.

"That's true."

"Oh, no, your flatulent finesse, I haven't forgotten Flounders' Day," Limburger smoothly lied to his superior. Camembert narrowed his eyes.

"Good. I'll be expecting a larger than normal delivery, since that last astoundingly bad failure of yours. Pray, what is it that you're planning to send me anyways?"

"Oh, I, well..." A thought came into the Plutarkian's head. "A pet."

"A _what_?"

"Karbunkle, bring that miserable mouse here, would you?"

The doctor entered a series of commands into the computer console he was sitting at, and Modo stiffened before he walked over to Limburger, just into the field of the camera. Camembert's face lit up.

"Ah, most fortuitous! Most fortuitous indeed!" he said happily. "Send him along with a shipment of iron, and perhaps.. Perhaps I won't fire you." His face darkened again before the transmission ended. Limburger made a extremely displeased face and a rude gesture.

"Send this pitiful excuse for a mammal back to his cell, Karbunkle. I need to buy a iron refinery."

"Indeed, your I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Butter-ness." Karbunkle entered several more commands into the console, and the floor opened up beneath Modo. He fell through to his newly appointed cell room, and after a moment, the black box attached to his forehead stopped blinking.

And a hollow scream echoed through that entire level of Limburger Tower.

_Another filler chapter. Can ya tell? *sheepish grin* ah well. _

_Anyone have plot bunnies they don't want, you can throw 'em right at me. I have no idea what to do with that plot twist up there. Don't you hate it when you do something like that?_


	12. Twelve

_Before we get to the next chapter- I have a new story up entitled "Bleed" that's M-rated (no sex or violence, yet, but a rape scenario) and a Rimfire-centric fic. _

_....wow, I didn't know I could stoop so low as to whore one story in another. ~sigh~_

"So what the hell are we gonna do?" Vinnie growled, pacing around in Charley's living room anxiously.

"I have a awesome idea- let's break Modo out." Gamut exercised his right arm, irritated and in pain.

"We can't just go flyin' in there," Throttle said. "He's under mind control, remember? He's very much capable of killing all of us, even without his arm cannon. We need a game plan, bros."

"I don't wanna," Gamut mumbled.

"Come on, old man, you know he's right." Shnag'r patted the large mouse's shoulder gently.

"Dammit." Gamut leaned back, his hands behind his head to hold the ice pack in place. He winced.

Limburger shut down his computer and leaned back in his chair, occasionally sipping his black coffee. The happy smile on his face would terrify a meek man, and send shivers down the spine of even the strongest.

"Oh, you Fabulous Flatulent Flabbiness?" Karbunkle called.

"Hmm?"

"I have a matter of the most utter importence to talk to you about."

"Oh, this isn't about the payment to the Dalai Lama, is it? Tell him that if he asks again, I'll-"

"No, no, your Utterly Rich And Creamy Whole-Milkness. This concerns the mind-control experiment." Karbunkle stepped into Limburger's lavishly furnished office. "Apparently the firewalls blocking the subject's control of the computer systems needs to be updated constantly."

"So? Update them! You don't need my permission for that."

"Yes, well.." Karbunkle looked around nervously. "The thing is, during the update the computer systems will be vulnerable to takeover by the subject. I need all the electronic hardware and software connected to the master computer in the building shut down during the updating process, or we may have a rampaging rodent on our hard drives."

"Oh, very well then." Limburger sighed. "I suppose I'll just have to go without Charlie's Angels for now, hmm?"

"Indeed." Karbunkle made a face and returned to his lab.

"Okay, Quinn, Shnag'r, you guys take west and make sure no citizens get hurt. Vinnie, you two back me up in case something goes wrong. Charley-girl, I'm gonna need some flash-bangs for the guards." Throttle held up several pieces of paper. "Gamut, you're with me."

"Finally," the older mouse crowed. Charley threw Throttle a white box marked with a skull, and handed Gamut a favorite weapon of hers.

The two mice got on their bikes and headed towards Limburger Tower, with the radios blaring Dimeback loudly.

When they got there, they were greeted by laser-fire and several strategically placed grenades. Gamut blasted them using a flamethrower, while Throttle took out the snipers with a few tossed flash-bangs. It took longer than usual (a whole five minutes!) but they did get inside. Gamut took the lead and headed up the stairs, Throttle close behind.

"Why are the lights off?" he mused out loud. Gamut's snarky answer was cut off by the lights flickering oddly, and then shutting off again.

"If that's not enough to induce epileptic seizures, then I don't know what is," Gamut mumbled to no one in particular. He crashed through the blast doors that had formerly held the sixth floor securely shut, and looked around the room confusedly.

"He was here," Gamut said.

"The computer's shut down," Throttle remarked. "So's the air conditioning, the heaters, the water supply.. you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"A ham sandwich would be awesome right about now?" Gamut suggested. They stared at each other for a minute before Throttle coughed and said, "Never mind. Let's keep looking."

"Uhm, sir?" a nervous technician sitting at the control computer said. Karbunkle sighed.

"What?"

"Is the console supposed to do this?" The tech motioned to the rapidly flickering monitor in front of him. Karbunkle hurried over, and then cursed several times.

"Some idiot forgot to disconnect that malcontent mammal from his electronic interface! He's gotten into the computer systems! Activate your firewalls, I'll head down there and manually deactivate the interface." Karbunkle ran for the elevator, punched 12 and waited impatiently until the elevator doors opened onto the mostly empty prison block.

Modo was in the farthest cell, slumped like a puppet without strings. The metal fingers of his right hand were twitching at regular intervals and his antennas were glowing a soft pink.

Karbunkle entered the password that would allow him access to the cell block, but a message came up on the screen- 

"'Incorrect Password'?! What do you mean, incorrect password?! I just changed it yesterday! I-"

Karbunkle's tirade was cut off by Modo, who shifted, opened his eye and stood. He aimed his arm cannon at the cell's door and fired, completely destroying its front. Like a robot, he stepped over the rubble and headed straight for the door to the cell block.

"Uh-oh." Karbunkle realized just what had happened and ran like hell for the elevator, managing to enter it just in time, as he saw Modo destroy the only thing keeping him from escaping.

"What the hell was that?" Gamut said, looking up at the ceiling worriedly.

Throttle booted up the computer console and acessed the surveillance cameras. His jaw dropped open when he saw what was happening on level 12.

"Modo's out and loose," he said quickly, jumping back on his bike. "Come on- maybe we can stun him and get him back to the garage!"

The two of them managed, somehow, to get past the crowd of twenty or so people fleeing down the stairs from the explosions upstairs. A few of the employees were tossed out of the way by a frantic Gamut, and others just kept on running down the stairs, tripping over each other in a disorderly evacuation.

"Modo!" Throttle shouted as they reached the prison block. "Modo, bro, are you okay?"

Modo stood in front of a window, simply looking out at the city below. His eye glowed red, but his face was expressionless and his body was relaxed.

"Oh, shit," Gamut whispered softly. Louder, he said "Modo? Son, can you hear us?"

Modo didn't respond, but he did turn to look at them. After a moment, he turned on his heel and headed for the elevator.

"Where are you going?" Throttle asked.

Again, Modo stared at them for a moment, before holding up four fingers.

"Fourth floor?" the tan mouse guessed.

Modo blinked and turned to the elevator, pressing the 'down' button.

"You know he's not okay when he takes the elevator," Throttle muttered.

_Not my best work, but hell, it's a nice chapter if I do say so myself. What do you think? I'd like to know. :D_


	13. Thirteen

Modo was running. He didn't know why, or even where he was, but his feet seemed to know where they were taking him. It wasn't like he could stop himself, anyways. He had little control over his body- he didn't even know what had happened in the last fifteen hours, only that in four hours something was going to happen. Something bad.

He went down a alleyway, feeling his forehead tingling. His antennas felt unusually sensitive, and he was actually receiving impressions from the worn-down buildings around him. That definately wasn't normal.

He curled up in a corner, leaning against a knobless door that was particularly silent. Right now, the only thing he wanted was for his bros to find him. Or his father. That'd be nice too.

0000

"Modo?" Charley called, worriedly. "Modo, where are you?"

She looked around the parking lot of the worn-down strip mall, silently wondering if the running figure she'd seen was merely a figment of her imagination.

"Uhn..."

"Modo!" She went toward the direction of the noise and found him, curled up next to a door, with his hand over his face. The two lights on the control box (at least, that was what Charley guessed it to be) were silently flickering irregularly.

Charley leaned down next to him and gently cupped his face in her hand. He grunted softly and shifted.

"Oh, no," she mumbled softly. "This is not good." She stroked his face for a moment and then ran back to her bike, flipping the radio on and calling for Throttle.

"Yeah?" the tan mouse answered, sounding somewhat strained.

"I found Modo," Charley said, her eyes glued to the obviously-suffering mouse.

"I thought I told you to stay at the garage!" Vinnie's voice came on. There was a moment of back-and-forth between Charley and Vinnie before Throttle angrily shouted, "Shut up!"

They shut up.

"How is he?" Throttle asked.

"Bad. It's like he's drunk, but he's not, you know? And I think he's in pain." She bit her lower lip.

"Where are you?"

"That old abandoned strip mall that Limburger bought last week."

"Okay, we're on our way." The radio flicked off, and Charley ran back over to Modo's side. The grey mouse moaned softly.

"Hurry," the human woman murmured, combing her fingers through the fur on Modo's shoulder.

0000

"How's he doin'?" Gamut asked, looking down at his son. The mouse's fur was damp and warm with sweat.

"The same as when you asked five .. minutes .. ago," Throttle said tensely.

"Are they back yet?" Shnag'r asked, looking out Charley's front window.

"No," Throttle said.

The older mouse and younger rat both paced around in tight circles, occasionally bumping into each other, huffing and then continuing to pace. Throttle resoaked the cold cloth and set it back on Modo's forehead, above the black box.

The three mice perked up at the sound of hoarse screaming and bike engines. Throttle stood quickly, silently pleased by Karbunkle's shouts of dismay.

"Get in there," Vinnie growled, kicking open Charley's front door and shoving the terrified mad scientist inside. Shnag'r and Gamut glared at him.

"Reverse the operation!" Throttle barked angrily. Karbunkle snorted.

"Make me."

Gamut grinned evilly. "Sure, I'll make you. Come with me.." The large grey mouse picked up Karbunkle by the back of his coat and carried him into the bathroom, slamming the door.

After a moment, screams started issuing from the bathroom. Vinnie huffed and folded his arms.

"What's that guy got that I don't?" he asked. Charley glared at him.

"Is he going to start coughing and shouting 'Gollum, Gollum' anytime soon? 'Cause that would be awesome," Shnag'r said.

"_I'LL DO IT! I'LL DO IT!" _Karbunkle shouted. The door opened and the scientist stumbled out, several shades paler than normal and his hands shaking slightly. Gamut leaned against the doorway, a supremely satisfied look on his fuzzy visage.

"What'd you do to him?" Throttle asked softly. Gamut made a zipping motion over his lips and watched as Karbunkle washed his gloved hands at the kitchen sink.

0000

"Scalpel," Karbunkle said, his voice just barely above a whisper. Throttle handed him a scalpel, and Karbunkle began to carefully cut at the wire connections that allowed the control box to serve its purpose.

Modo didn't moan or shift, thanks to the chloroform-soaked cloth over his mouth and nose. Gamut stood at the living room's doorway, a medical mask over his lower face and his blue eyes narrowed in contempt.

"Sponge."

Throttle handed the scientist a sponge, and Karbunkle dabbed at the watery blood issuing from the new wounds.

"Drill."

"_Drill?"_ Throttle repeated incredulously.

"What did you think I was going to use? A butter knife?" Karbunkle snapped.

"Just a second," Gamut said, darting outside. After a moment he came back in with a small power drill and handed it to the scientist. "You hurt him.."

"And you'll kill me. I know." The weary doctor flipped on the drill. "I suggest you step back a bit. There's going to be some splatter."

Throttle felt his stomach turn slightly. He scooted back a foot, still within sight of the mess of fur and wires attached to Modo's head. Gamut closed his eyes.

There was a rather disgusting noise as the drill opened a hole in Modo's head. Throttle winced and swallowed some bile that rose into the back of his throat.

After nearly three whole minutes, Karbunkle turned off and set aside the drill, visually examining the new wound.

"Euw.. God," Throttle muttered.

"There's some pressure in the crainium. Let it sit for a moment and relieve itself." Karbunkle sat back, crossing his legs. Gamut shifted, leaning his weight on his other foot.

Finally, Karbunkle shufted back onto his knees and again examined Modo, then took a pair of sterilized steel pliers and carefully pulled out a tiny chip, covered in blood. He set it aside, wiped off the pliers, and again plucked at the wires still connected loosely to Modo's brain.

One-by-one, the scientist carefully detached and threw away the wires, ignoring the occasional retching noise from Throttle. Gamut kept his eyes closed throughout the whole procedure, never once even cracking open a eyelid to see what was going on. Throttle didn't blame him.

"This is as much as I can do," Karbunkle said finally, sitting back. He set aside the pliers and wiped his forehead tiredly.

"Good." Gamut opened his eyes, went over and grabbed Karbunkle by his lapel, and then opened Charley's front door and threw the scientist out like a sack of garbage. "Now _LEAVE!_" the grey mouse roared angrily.

When the doctor was out of his eyesight, Gamut slammed the door shut and leaned over, hands on his knees, looking exhausted. Throttle stood and went over to support him, helping the older mouse sit down stiffly.

"You think he's gonna be okay?" Gamut asked softly, pressing a hand against his son's chest. Throttle sighed.

"I honestly don't know. I wish I did, though." The tan mouse removed and threw away the chloroform-soaked cloth, and gently held Modo's left hand for a second.

The two awake mice jumped up when the doorknob rattled and then clicked. Then Charley stepped in, holding a box marked "medical supplies".

"Did you get the stuff?" Throttle asked hopefully. She nodded.

"Morphine, antibiotics, gauze, the works. He should be set for a while." She set the box on the kitchen counter and looked at Modo worriedly. "How'd it go?"

"Fine. Karbunkle did what I told him to and then I threw him out. He shouldn't be coming around _me_ anytime soon." Gamut sat back down and put his hands behind his head, feeling relaxed for the first time in days.

"Poor guy," Charley murmured. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and set it under the younger grey mouse's head. He didn't respond; he was still heavily asleep.

_You better be okay, _Gamut thought to himself. _You hear me, son? _

_Please be okay..._

He closed his eyes again.

0000

_Ffffff, this should've been up sooner, but my plot bunnies got colds and couldn't give me ideas. *sigh*_

_btw, thanks for telling me about the linebreak fuckup, NightLight- I would've corrected that sooner but I don't read my stories much. :E_

_also- "where's shnag'r, quinn and vinnie?" you ask. they're foiling limburger's attempts to buy that iron factory I mentioned earlier. I didn't put that in here because it would've made the chapter a bit too long by my standards, but I'll try and focus on that in the next chapter. (emphasis on 'try', :p)_

_As always, reviews are muchly appreciated. _


	14. Fourteen

"Hey, guys, how'd it go?" Charley asked, greeting Vinnie, Quinn and Shnag'r as they marched through her front door.

"Awesome. I kicked ass." Vinnie grinned.

"Correction, _le fruitcake- _we kicked ass." Quinn bopped the white mouse on the back of the head. "How'd the thing go?"

"Okay, as far as I can tell." Charley looked back into her living room, where Gamut was seated in front of the couch his son was occupying. "Modo's still out, and Gamut hasn't left his side."

"Hey, old-timer," Shnag'r said cheerfully. Gamut grunted and didn't look away from the TV.

"He doesn't seem worried," Vinnie remarked. Quinn snorted.

"He's worried."

Vinnie looked in further to see a infomercial for cake mix on the TV screen. "Oh.. He is?"

"He's not even watching that, dude," Shnag'r informed the white mouse.

"Ah." Vinnie blinked, still not understanding what the two Rats were saying, and decided to drop it.

Modo winced, shifting his legs just enough for Gamut to hear and notice. The older mouse turned around, sitting so he faced the young grey Martian.

"Hey, son, how you feelin'?" he asked softly, rubbing Modo's shoulder. Modo opened his eye and looked around, looking somewhat disoriented.

"Modo!" Vinnie yelped happily, practically flying over to the couch to greet his bro. "Man, I was _so not_ worried about you!"

The edge of the grey mouse's mouth quirked up a bit at the hidden meaning. "Wasn't.. worried either, bro." His voice sounded strained and hoarse, but okay. Recongizable, at least.

"Hey," Throttle said, coming down the stairs from the shower. "Modo!"

"Hey, bro." Modo craned his neck to see his bathrobe-clad comrade lean over him and adjust the bandage on Modo's forehead. "Man, you smell terrible."

"Yeah, Charley ran out of conditioner. How are you feelin'?"

"Dizzy. Tired. Really, really hungry."

Gamut smiled. "That last part, aren't you _always_ hungry?"

"Shut up, Dad," Modo said weakly, shooting a half-assed glare at his father. Gamut rolled his eyes.

"Modo, you're awake!" Charley said happily, edging into the tiny crowd to gently reach down and hold his right hand. "How are you feeling? Any headaches? Nausea?"

"Like I have a cold. Would you all please not _think so loud?_" Modo groaned and rubbed one of his antennas. "It's like a freaking rock concert in here!"

"Sorry," she apologized. "You heard him- shoo, flee, be gone."

They dispersed, Throttle heading back upstairs to use the hairdryer, and Vincent went into the kitchen to check for food. Gamut went back to watching TV, feeling much more relaxed than he had in several hours.

"The hell is this?" he muttered, realizing just what he was watching. "Here, you take the remote. I have no idea what's on."

"Hey, neither do I," Modo protested. Gamut sighed and flipped through the menu before noticing something called 'Gossip Girl'.

_This looks interesting._ He changed the channel and drew his knees up, contentedly watching a trio of bikini-clad women chatter about their sex lives.

"Dad! You're married!" Modo stared at the back of the older mouse's head, horrified. Gamut chuckled.

"Married, not dead. You think her boobs are fake or not?"

Modo blinked, all thoughts of continuing to make his point flying out of his head as he watched the TV with the uttermost interest.

"Real," he said finally. Gamut snorted.

"Fake. See, you can almost see the edge of one of her implants right.. there." Gamut pointed at the TV, and Modo 'ahh'ed.

"Now, _her _boobs.. Those are real."

The two of them watched as the character in question started motioning. She made a pumping motion with her hands balled up into fists, and her breasts started bouncing as well. The two Martians' heads started moving in the same motion, and as Charley came back into the living room, she saw what was going on and facepalmed.

"Men." She shook her head and decided not to interrupt their male bonding session, headed back to the main garage to repair Vinnie's bike. On her way, she heard Gamut say "Are _those _real? I can't tell."

"Those are real," Modo's voice floated into the garage. Charley sighed and bent her head against the plating of Sweetness' engine.

"They need to get laid, don't they," she mumbled to herself.

0000

_Male bonding. It perplexes us all. :p_

_Reviews coveted!_


	15. Fifteen

"You _**WHAT?**_" Limburger roared at Karbunkle, infuriated. The scientist shrunk backwards and turned pale.

"He used a mind trick on me!" Karbunkle exclaimed. "I couldn't disobey him!"

"You've ruined the entire plan!" Limburger growled. "First that mangy mouse escapes, then his comrades destroy the iron factory, and now the mind control has been reversed! _CAMEMBERT IS GOING TO KILL ME!_" Limburger sat down heavily, took off his mask and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"I need a villian," he muttered. "I really, really need a villian."

"Your malodoriousness, if I may make a su-"

"You may NOT make a suggestion, you betraying buffoon." Limburger stood, slipped his mask back on and headed for the door. "I'll transport the damn villians myself, thank you very much. Stay here."

0000

"You still got the nausea?" Charley asked, standing in front of the bathroom door. Her reply came in the form of a retching, hacking noise, and then the door opened.

"Not anymore," Modo said, and walked away, bracing himself against the wall. "Oh, wait..."

"C'mon, Modo, you gotta lay down." Charley reached over and grabbed his mechanical arm gently, and drove him back towards the couch.

"I'm not a invalid," he complained as she pushed him down onto the couch. "I can stand around and do stuff like the rest of you!"

"Your stomach begs to differ," the human woman deadpanned. She threw a blanket over his shoulders. "You still haven't recovered from the surgery, Modo.. now lay down and get some good honest sleep, okay?"

"Fine." Modo laid back, relaxing against the couch and sighed quietly. A few moments later he shifted and laid down completely, and then fell asleep. Charley brushed a hand against his cheek and went back to the kitchen.

0000

"Can we please, please please use the F-900s?" Vinnie squawked over the noise of bike engines and heavy metal.

"No, Vincent, we're using the T1-38-sixties!" Throttle shouted back. Vinnie made a unhappy face and huffed.

"Now?" Shnag'r asked hopefully as they entered Limburger's territory. Throttle shook his head.

Once they were nearly within spitting distance of Limburger Tower, Throttle gave the command to set bombs around the front entrance.

"Why the front?" Vinnie asked.

"Just in case Limburger decides to go somewhere. Two birds with one stone, y'see." Quinn grinned threateningly.

"Eheh.." Vinnie slapped a timer on the whole mess and the foursome of Mice and Rats removed themselves to a safe distance. Throttle whipped out the remote detonator.

"Me! Me! Me! Me! Me!" Vinnie yelped, darting towards the tan mouse excitedly. Throttle sighed and tossed the white mouse the small hotwired TV remote.

Vinnie laughed menacingly. "Is explosion tiem, yes yes yes _ye-heh-heh-hehsss._" He pressed the red 'ok' button.

_**KA-FOOSH-BOOM!**_

The front door exploded, along with nearly the entire lower front of Limburger Tower. Vinnie cheered and whooped, whilst the two Rats chanted 'kuumbaya'. Throttle saluted.

"That was almost as good as sex," Shnag'r remarked. Quinn, Throttle and Vinnie all shook their heads in disagreement.

Meanwhile, in the wobbling upper half of the Tower..

"Do you still want to transport that villian?" Karbunkle asked innocently. Limburger moaned and facepalmed.

"_Fuck._"

0000

_And now what'm I gonna do?_

_...no idea. _

_ideas and reviews welcome, as always :D _

_PS: the kuumbaya part? that was a shoutout to South Park fans. :thumbsup: _


	16. Sixteen

It had taken a whole hour of explaining across a fitzy connection, but Throttle had finally managed to wheedle a shuttle out of Carbine. Vinnie had amused himself by watching her expressions while Throttle attempted to tell the whole story to her.

"Next time this happens, Modo's explaining it. My God, I don't think even the Spaghetti Incident took so much diplomacy." Throttle leaned back in his chair. "How are they doing, anyways?"

"Dunno. They've been talking for a half hour but they don't let anyone eavesdrop.. which will really dissapoint the gals down in Michael's Deli." Vinnie snickered at Throttle's somewhat horrified look. "Oh, don't look so worried. They don't know a thing.. other than your fetish for body pillows!"

"_YOU FILTHY SON OF A TWO-BIT DIRTBIKE!_" Throttle roared, lunging for the white mouse.

Meanwhile, in the living room..

"What was that?" Gamut asked upon hearing a womanly shriek. Modo pondered it for a moment.

"Ah, that's just Vinnie. He shouts like that sometimes when Throttle tries to kill him. What were we talking about?"

Raising a eyebrow, Gamut said "I was gonna tell you why I started drinking."

"Mmh." Modo and Gamut stared at each other for a little while as the latter tried to find words. Finally he just leaned back and started to talk, somewhat aimlessly.

"Y'know.. I never.. Uh. Hmm." The corner of his mouth quirked up in a almost-smile. "Ahem. You know how I was drafted into th' Army, right?"

Modo nodded, and his father continued. "Yeah. Back when you were just this lil' fifteen year old."

"I was _not _little," Modo corrected him. "I was taller than Momma."

"Whatever. Everything that was smaller than me back then was little, okay?" The both of them chuckled at the memories that brought up. "Anyways.. Back then, I was sort of a .. Kind of a 'hollow-tough-guy'. Like your friend Vinnie, except not with so much ego."

Gamut inhaled deeply and continued. "Uhm. So, about.. maybe three or four days.. after I got to the base, after they drafted me, me n' the squad are jus' patrollin' around. You know, basic Army stuff, to get us used to procedures and all that.

So, Kinterra- he was this teeny lil' mouse, only about five feet or so, it's amazing they didn't refuse him when he applied for the reserves- he smells this nasty smell comin' from a patch of trees nearby. We- the four of us, we head into the trees, and.."

Gamut closed his eyes and swallowed harshly. "None of us had ever seen death up.. so close."

After a pause to drink down his rootbeer, he continued. "There was this really old, almost dead tree, 'bout near a hundred feet tall with a bunch of thick low-lyin' branches. And, uh.. This kid, we called him Sonar, he was.. He was hangin' by his neck, he'd been hung up with razor wire. There was blood jus' flowin' down his neck n' his chest. We, uh, we cut him down and he was still alive, but.." Gamut sighed and rubbed his left temple. "He bled out before the medics could get to us. My God, he looked almost exactly like you back then. Same goddamn lousy hairstyle that was all the rage, same high-pitched voice, same fat pot-belly. N' towards the end, we'd run out of the pain medication, so he was.. he went out.. kickin' and screamin'."

He made a noise somewhere inbetween a laugh and a sob. "Hell, I looked at him afterwards and somehow.. I thought for a second 'My God, that's Modo'. Next thing I thought was 'Naw, that ain't him.' But.. It still looked like you.

The Army, they did a investigation into it, 'cause there weren't any Rats or Sand Raiders nearby.. an' then they jus' stopped. Completely quit. Told the rest of the squad to keep our mouths shut or we'd get drummed out. So, we drummed ourselves out."

"You quit?" Modo said, suprised. Gamut nodded.

"Yeah. Couldn't stand it anymore. I mean, Sonar, he was just nineteen! He deserved somethin' more than what the goddamn Army was givin' him. His family deserved a hell of a lot more. But nobody could talk about it, y'know? Nobody could go to a therapist, nobody could get a mind-walker to dull the memories, nothin'.

That was why most of us started doin' drugs of some sort. For Kinterra, it was smokin' imported weed. For our squad leader, it was that Devil's Dandruff crap. For me, it was liquor."

Gamut smiled sadly and looked at his own knees. "It was kinda like the stuff was the only .. 'person' I could tell about the whole goddamn mess. Only person who couldn't tell a soul about what happened."

"Huh," Modo said, and then winced slightly. "Sorry. That sounded a little insensitive."

Gamut snorted. "That's not the worst reaction I ever got after tellin' this story."

Throttle interrupted their little father-son moment by appearing in the doorway, Vinnie in a tight headlock gasping for breath. "Hey, lovebirds- Carbine says that she'll be sending Stoker with a shuttle sometime this week."

"'Kay," Gamut replied disjointedly. "Hey, what do you 'spose is on TV?"

"Aren't you glad? You're gonna see Momma and Rackette again!" Modo stared at him.

"Son, the first thing your mother is probably going to do to me is slap me across the face, call me a cheating, lying bastard, and then haul me downstairs to her dungeon of doom to be sodomized in several ways."

There was a extremely long pause, during which nobody made a noise. Until Gamut started sniggering insanely.

"I bet that put a nasty image in your head," he remarked. Modo groaned and rubbed his eye.

"You're a bad man," Throttle muttered.

This uncanny-valley moment was interrupted (a lot of interrupting in this chapter, isn't there?) by the front door flying open, revealing a frantic and beaten-up Quinn.

"What the hell?" Gamut jumped to his feet.

"Limburger shot at us while we were making a food run," the large Rat gasped. "He got Shnag'r."

0000

_Finally, I've killed him off!_

_(actually, he dies in the next chapter.) Sorry, but I always meant for him to die. S'why there are two rats instead of one :)_

_As always, reviews and concrit welcome _


	17. Seventeen

"How bad is it?" Gamut asked, following the large Rat outside. Quinn pointed.

Charley was holding Shnag'r up, sitting behind him with a frightened look on her face. The young Rat's chest was splattered with his own blood, where he'd been shot in the collarbone. He was gasping for breath, a hand clasped against his throat in a attempt to stave the flow of blood.

"My God," Gamut hissed, his eyes wide.

"Help me," Charley said, her grip on the substantially heavy Rat weakening visibly. Gamut and Quinn both sprung over to her, and carefully laid Shnag'r out on the ground.

"Hey, kid." Gamut smiled quietly at the beige Rat. He coughed.

"Man, I thought I was runnin' away from this fate," he said hoarsely.

"You know how it goes, Shnag'r. Dyin' to live when you're just livin' to die." Quinn pressed a hand against the other Rat's chest, his dark brown fur gaining a red hue. Shnag'r snorted.

"Yeah. Runnin' to live.. livin' to run.." His voice faded as he finally gave in. The flow of blood slowed as his heart took its last rest.

Quinn stood, his face now a expressionless mask. Gamut looked up at him.

"Anything special you want me to do?" he asked. The large Rat shook his head.

"His body is a shell now. Do with it as you wish." Quinn walked inside, dodging Modo's well-intended clap on the shoulder and unresponsive to Throttle and Vinnie's consoling words.

"Wha.. ?" Charley asked. Gamut scooped up Shnag'r's body.

"He's a Rat," the grey mouse said simply. "To them, the spirit is the special thing. Not the body."

0000

"How's Quinn doing?" Charley asked, sitting down next to Vinnie. The white mouse sighed.

"He went out, beat up some goons. He's sleepin' now at the 'board." Vinnie placed a hand on her knee and squeezed. "How are you doin', darlin? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She bent her head against his shoulder and let out a long breath, the tension in her shoulders easing.

"Attagirl," Vinnie murmured. "You just sleep now, okay? We'll go back to the Scoreboard, catch a few eats at Andy's."

"Mhhm," Charley grunted as the white mouse rose and positioned a pillow under her head.

0000

Gamut leaned forward, pressing his chin against his palm as he watched out the window of the Scoreboard. Below, a few birds tweeted in the last hours of the evening.

"Hey, Dad," Modo greeted him, dressed in a pink t-shirt and shorts. "I'm gonna turn in, okay? Don't stay up too long or you'll wake Vinnie up. He needs his 'beauty sleep'," Modo said, making quotie fingers. Gamut smiled quietly and nodded, then returned back to the window.

After a little while, maybe ten minutes, he heard shuffling from behind him. Gamut turned to see Quinn, making his way towards the fridge with a dazed look on his face.

"You get bashed over the head again?" Gamut asked.

"Yeah," the large Rat said. He rubbed the back of his head. "Uh. About Shnag'r.."

"I already buried him." Gamut stared out the window, his eyes focused on particularly nothing.

"Can I ask how?" Quinn said with a befuddled look on his face.

"Water burial. He loved his liquids."

"Yeah. Yeah, he did." Quinn smiled softly. "I miss that bastard."

"I know." Gamut nodded deeply.

0000

_Next chapter, we might head back to Mars. Or we might not. Or we might. Or we might not. Or we- _

_WHOCK!_

_btw- which mouse is best with Charley, Modo- Throttle- or Vinnie? The reason I'm asking is that I have the bros and Charley in Sims 2, and I wanted to marry her to one of them. :D _

_As always, reviews are welcome. :)_


	18. Eighteen

Gamut sighed and put his arms behind his head, watching the blue sky above the Scoreboard.

"Dad! Where are you? Monster Trucking is on!" Modo shouted from one of the Scoreboard's windows.

Gamut smashed a empty can of root beer against his forehead and declined to respond.

"Dad!" Modo shouted again.

'Dad' threw a can of root beer over the side of the Scoreboard.

"Ow!" Modo yelped, rubbing the back of his head. "If you wanna be left alone, just say so, dammit!"

"Gotta keep the kids in line," Gamut muttered with a satisfied smile on his face. He looked back up at the sky again, his eyes focused on a small, white dot far above.

"About time, dammit. You better have brought some Martian food, you asshole," Gamut grumbled angrily. "You're a whole week late." He slapped a red button on the radio console he was resting his feet upon and shouted, "Stoker, you bastard! Is that you up there?"

"_You're damn right it is, you drunken space sailor, you!_" Stoker shouted back. "_Where the hell have you been? Cavorting with Plutarkian hos again?"_

"You're goddamn right I've been!" Gamut leapt to his feet. "You son of a bitch! I'm gonna beat you to a pulp when you get down here!"

"_The only thing you could beat to a pulp is a pulp!_" Stoker laughed loudly.

"Only thing you could beat up was your own goddamn self, 'cause you jacked off too damn hard!"

"_You faggot!"_

There was a while of very long silence between Gamut and Stoker before the latter said, in a very muted voice, "_I missed you, ya goddamn jerk._"

"Aw, shut up, you sentimental old fart," Gamut muttered back. "You don't know th' meaning of the word."

The grey mouse watched as a saucerlike Cycladrone Armaratron descended onto the field, destroying a few seats while it compensated for Earth's gravity. After a moment, the circular door opened and Stoker jumped out, immediately assuming a crouching position.

"Gamut, you fag! Where are you?" he yelled. Gamut stood, grinned and walked over to the edge of the roof of the Scoreboard.

"Right here," he said quietly, and jumped.

"_WHOOO-AAAH!_" he screamed, heading straight for Stoker. The tan-furred mouse didn't even bother to look up, but instead stayed still.

Until Gamut landed on him.

"Shit," Stoker mumbled. "You're fucking heavy, man."

"Sorry."

"Holy mother of God!" Modo yelped from the window. "Stoker, man, are you okay?"

"Fine, fine, just greeting a old friend." Stoker shifted underneath the still-recovering Gamut. "Let me up, you fat bastard."

"Not fat," Gamut mumbled irritably. He got off of Stoker and sat behind him, watching the old General as he winced and rubbed his sore ass.

"Goddamnit, Gamut, you gotta stop tackling me. I know you're fanboyishly happy to see me after all these years, but damn, you're one heavy gunslinger." Stoker grinned.

"I'm not a fuckin' fanboy, you slow idiot," Gamut said and slapped Stoker upside the head. The old-timer grinned.

"Stokes!" Vinnie yelled from the window. "Stokes, old-timer! How are you?"

"Sore, crushed and thirsty!" Stoker shouted back.

"Sounds familiar," Throttle commented from his lawn-chair atop the VIP box. "Good to see you, Stoker."

"Yeah, well, you won't be seeing me for long. Argh.." Stoker rose to his feet along with Gamut. "Carbine gave me the okay to stay only a hour, says she needs all the ships for a water transfer from Ion."

"Ice from Ion? Are you kidding me?" Gamut shook his head.

"Nope. The squints wanna test a new engine that goes at three-forty times the speed of light." Stoker chuckled along with Gamut. "Sounds crazy, don't it?"

"Not really, when you think about it." Stoker looked up at the Scoreboard. "You bros wanna throw down some of those hot dogs for the trip?"

"No, no, no, not hot dogs, anything but hot dogs!" Gamut winced.

"You _don't like hot dogs?_" the other four mice said in suprise.

"Well, you know.. wieners and all that.. it gives me flashbacks." Gamut shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

There was a moment of silence as everyone had their own mental images scar them for life, and then Stoker said over-loudly "Chicken nuggets, then."

"Yeah, yeah, we have chicken nuggets. Jeez," Throttle mumbled. "Bastard knows how to spoil a good time, doesn't he?"

0000

_Arrrrgh, finally! _

_It's summery up here in AK, so I caught a case of heatstroke-induced writers' block and took a little while longer to finish this. Sorry bout that. _

_Ideas, concrit and general reviews are always welcome :D_


	19. Nineteen

Pidän kaikki kommentit!

0000

Stoker looked out the front window of the cockpit, quietly enjoying the stars before him. Beside him, in the chair to his right, Gamut slept deeply, his mouth open and a little bit of drool on his Deadpool Logo shirt. And on the other side of the old grey mouse, the young one was resting his head on the former's shoulder. Both of them were unconsciously imitating chainsaws.

"Noisy bastards," the tan-furred General grumbled.

"_Stoker?_" Carbine called over the radio. The aforementioned Freedom Fighter jumped in his chair, slapped the reply button and said "Yeah?"

"_You're gonna wanna drop the cargo to home base, there are some nasty storms around H-Q._"

"But, Mom, I don't want to!" Stoker yelped over the radio. He heard a chuckle and a few swear words before she said "_Just do it, old-timer. Without breaking the ship._" The frequency clicked shut.

The ship shuddered as it hit the first layer of atmosphere. Stoker flipped a few switches, diverted power to the thrusters and gripped the tiger-striped steering wheel tightly.

And then the automatic stabilizers decided to take a break and drink some bubbly.

The ship squealed as she turned, end over end, before the backups engaged and made everyone's head slap the computer board in front of them.

"There's the old Stoker luck workin' again. Crashes guarenteed or your money back!" Stoker growled as he pulled up. "Hang on, boys, cause this is gonna be a wild riiii-!"

0000

"Whoo!" Gamut yelled as he emerged from the battered ship. "Maaaan, that was somethin', wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it was somethin'." Stoker rubbed his head and looked back at Modo. "You okay, punk?"

"Fine. I think we got sand in the food, though.." Modo sadly held up a sack of chips, covered in sand and plant roots. "Aww."

"Come on, you big wussy," Gamut said. He grabbed Modo's shoulders and gently helped him up to his feet. "There's only a mile to your mother's house."

All three mice jumped at attention when they heard a woman's scream from nearby.

"Shit," Gamut whispered. "I know who that is."

And they jumped on their bikes and rode. Rode as fast as their bikes could take them, towards the voices and shouts and the sound of engines. Gamut let out a war cry, to let whoever it was know he was coming. Usually, people went running when they heard him coming, but apparently they didn't know him well.

He could make out, about a hundred feet in front of him, what looked like a old well tower and a few trucks, enblazoned with the "crossed sword-and-bone" Sand Raider symbol.

"Son of a fuck," he growled. "You fucks better not mess with that tower, you godda-"

His words were cut off by another scream, but the three Mice could instantly tell it wasn't out of pain- that was a woman, warning something away. They'd all heard it before.

Someone had pissed someone's momma off, and now they were dead meat for sure.

Laser fire suddenly erupted, and as Gamut neared he could see two light-grey-furred women, both of whom looked very familiar.

"Fuck off!" one shouted to a fat Sand Raider, clawing at his chest in rage. He laughed along with three others.

"You better watch yourself, missy, or you'll-"

And the leader's head exploded in a colorful blast of blood, brains and bits of skull. Modo lowered his right arm and said, "You watch your own damn self, you worthless piece of shit."

Gamut got off his bike, leaned over while he regained his breath, when he saw one of the Sand Raiders approach the women. He leaped, crashing into the Raider with all his weight, and felt a satisfying 'crunch' underneath him as the Raider's neck was broken.

The other two Raiders looked considerably more squeamish than before. At Stoker's command, they surrendered their weapons and ran the hell away, almost forgetting that their trucks hadn't been captured by the Mice.

"Momma!" Modo shouted, greeting his mother with a hug so enthusiastic it nearly knocked her down.

"Sweetie, I know you're glad to see me, but I can't breathe!"

Modo let go of her with a apologetic smile, and then his jaw dropped. "Wow."

"Whoo! Home Makeover Rose Edition!" Stoker quipped, looking the woman up and down appreciatively.

Rose glared back at him from under a ragged mane. She'd dyed it a while back, leaving brown highlights in her hair. She was wearing a denim, fake-fur-trimmed vest over a leather midriff-baring shirt, and brown pants over black boots, with spikes lining the sides of the heels. A blue, ragged belt hung lopsidedly on her hips.

Gamut quickly clicked the visor on his helmet closed, for once too afraid to show his face. _Goddamn, what am I gonna say?_ he wondered.

"Wow, Momma, you look.. different." Modo stared at her, quietly wondering what in hell had made her dress like that.

"The Sand Raiders are getting more belligerent, so I have to dress for success or be left behind." She grinned at Stoker's appreciative look. "Aprons don't help you in a firefight, dear."

"Ah, well," the tan-furred General said and cleared his throat. "Well, we brought somethin'."

"Hmm?"

Stoker motioned to Gamut, who was now sitting on his bike, his head dipped slightly. "Come on, big guy. Can't put this off forever."

Gamut stood and walked over to her, his heart pounding in his chest as she looked up at him confusedly. He took off his helmet and watched her expression change from blank to astonished, to something even he couldn't read.

"Hey, honey, I'm home." Gamut smiled weakly.

_Fwap!_

The older grey mouse let out a small yelp as his wife slapped him with claws unsheathed, making three cuts just below his eye.

"What was that for?" he shouted angrily. Rose hissed at him wordlessly and stalked off, her daughter snickering insanely as she followed her mother.

"Ooooh, is it Maury time?" Stoker asked.

"Shut up, Stoker. Just shut your goddamn trap." Gamut pressed a hand against the bleeding cuts on his face and groaned. "I hate it when I piss her off."

0000

_Mwa ha ha ha ha. Always had that last part planned out. :D_

_If you've got a idea as to what I should do with Quinn, I'd greately appreciate it. Or just a regular review, I love those too _


	20. Twenty!

"Don't talk to me, Gamut! Don't even think about it!" Rose barked angrily as she stormed into her house. Gamut trailed after her, a confused and angry expression on his face. 

"What the hell, Rose? I came back!" he exclaimed. She whipped around and pushed him back out onto the porch.

"How the hell am I supposed to know that you haven't been cavorting with other women? Huh?" she shouted. "For all I know you could've married another woman!"

She reached up to slap him again, but Gamut caught her wrist and slammed her against the outside wall of the house. "Do you _know _how much I've had to fucking _endure _to get back to you?" he hissed.

"Let go!" She twisted away from him, but he pressed his knee into her stomach.

"Listen to me," he pleaded. "I've had to slog my way through sewers, lose my memory, get experimented on, and get third-degree burns on my feet _just to get to Earth!_ If I do that much just to see my own son, how much you think I'd do to see my wife?"

They stared at each other for a long, long while before Rose craned her neck and rubbed her forehead against Gamut's chin in a deeply affectionate display. Gamut released her and wrapped his arms around her in a bear-hug, stroking her forehead gently. Their antennas glowed softly, and they both shuddered.

"Can't breathe," Rose mumbled. Gamut loosened his grip on her, but didn't let go.

He wasn't sure he could ever let go again.

0000

"Quinn?" Charley said confusedly as she watched the Rat prowl the rafters of the Last Chance garage.

"Ah. Hello." He jumped down, landing gracefully on his feet and one hand. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"What were you doing?"

"Instinct," he said cryptically. Charley sighed and shook her head.

"Hey, can I ask you a question?" she said. Quinn nodded.

"Why didn't you go back to Mars?"

Quinn let out a long breath and sat down in a chair, entwining his fingers. "There is nothing there for me."

"What do you mean?" Charley sat down on her tool chest next to him.

"It's a long story, but essentially I was exiled from my homeland, and since I'm a Rat.." He shrugged. "Second-class citizen and all that. I'd work legitimately, but there are no honest jobs for someone of my race."

Charley frowned. That sounded a lot like the old tales her maternal grandparents had told her, about what life for African-Americans was like in the early days after World War II. "That happened to us once."

"What, you discriminated against a splinter species?" Quinn asked. Charley shook her head.

"No, dark-skinned humans. There was this whole thing about how they were inferior to us because of their skin. For a while they couldn't vote, couldn't get leadership positions. We even sold them like cattle once." She squeezed her hands into fists, the old tales reigniting anger.

"And that's personally offensive," Quinn guessed. Charley nodded.

"My mother's a black woman from Uganda, adopted by a black couple. My dad was white. His parents disowned him for a while after he married her, and then she came right to their house and reasoned with them, a little violently. Violently being that she screamed her words at the top of her lungs." They shared a chuckle. "Anyways, my dad's dad, he was so impressed that he sort of adopted her himself. Said that no woman had ever had the guts to stand up to him before. My grandmother wasn't too impressed though. She just tolerates Mom now. Doesn't even look at my brother and sisters, but she absolutely adores me, cause I'm 'gramma's lil' white angel'." Charley made a insulting gesture at the floor and mumbled, "Screw her."

There was silence for a while before Quinn said "That all sounds familiar."

Charley felt a sick nausea rise inside of her stomach. "What do they do?"

"Public punishment, in some of the more backwards places. The Sand Raiders trade us, like cattle, but they're beginning to figure out that that's a bad idea. The Mice cordon off places for us to live, learn, eat, play.. drive.. grow our food.." His face twitched in barely-concealed anger. "When the Plutarkians came, the Mice used us as meat shields and left us to die. Some of them even started .. eating us." He shuddered.

"God," Charley muttered.

"Yeah. Some of us, we try and stop it. Some Mice don't like the way we're treated, so they try and stop it. Some Sand Raiders funnel goods to the dirt-poor villages. In the end, though, it comes out to more and more and _more death._" He hissed out the last words of the sentance, his tail slapping against the floor. "It's not right. It's not right."

There was more silence between them, as Charley desperately looked for something to say and Quinn simply wondered where he should go.

"I hear there's a abandoned hospital in Ohio that could use some haunting," he said finally and stood. Charley looked up at him, a pleading expression on her face. He smiled.

"Don't worry. There's only one person that can catch me, and he doesn't care about me anymore." He left the Garage, leaving Charley to her thoughts and angry ruminations.

0000

Gamut watched from his seat as his wife stood, grabbed her and her son's dishes and took them to the kitchen. He'd had five hours to explain the whole story to his grandchildren, and even that hadn't been enough time. They barely remembered him, but he'd been suprised at how receptive they were.

Especially Rimfire. Apparently he had inherited the Maverick love of pranking, and with a little stoking the young mouse was primed to perform his first prank in a while.

Rimfire snuck something onto his grandmother's seat, shot a grin at Gamut and then assumed a innocent look. His sister kicked him under the table and his mother ignored the whole thing, while Modo shook his head and then looked back into the kitchen hopefully.

Rose came back in and sat down. There was a sudden very, very loud hissing noise.

"_AIIEEE!_" Rose jumped off of her seat and fell onto the floor, rubbing her overheated rump. Rimfire stifled his giggles poorly, while Gamut just started cackling evilly.

"No good-night kiss for either of you," she muttered, grabbed the sack of hot coals and threw it into the firepit. Modo started to snicker, and so did Rackette, until everyone at the table was laughing except for Rose, who just had a sinister little smile on her face.

Later that night, both Rimfire and Gamut were up with severe constipation.

0000

_Sorry about the little racist thing I stuck in the middle- but I couldn't help it. :) That might actually turn into its own story, if I ever get the motivation to write it._

_Reviews are, as always, welcome. Even flames, because you can light little candles with flames! :D_


	21. Epuli Epog Oh Fuck It

The scene is a small city in Ohio, population 500. The location- an abandoned hospital, formerly Saint Sandie's Home for the Disadvantaged.

Two people, a man and a woman, are currently sneaking into the hospital to confirm reports of paranormal activity.

"Bridget, I can't open this door," the man said. The woman pulled a crowbar from her purse and busted the lock on the door. It swung open, the rusty hinges squealing.

They entered, stepping over gurneys and files strewn all over the floor.

"Coward," a woman's voice said, drifting from the nursery. Bridget shivered.

"You left him here to die!" a man's voice shouted. "Get out! Get out! _GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OU-_"

After about a minute, the intruding explorers had had enough of it and bolted outside, running like the hounds of hell were upon them. As soon as they were out of earshot, the shouting stopped and two figures, one large and one small, peeked out from the nursery.

"That was fun, Quinn! Let's do that again sometime!" the young girl squeaked out.

The tall Rat grinned and looked down at his adopted protege. "Oh, yes. Definately."

0000

_And that, ladles and gerbils-_

_Ahem. _

_And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of The Long Road Home. I hope you'll find your asses sore from sitting on the edge of your seat for so long. _

_Oh, who am I kidding?_

_Anyways, I've appreciated your comments, hits, faves, and general attention to this little piece. There is this one one-shot I should upload, and then I am __done__ for the next six months unless I somehow get the motivation to do another in-prog. _

_Ride free, citizens. _

_And preferably whilst not drinking margarhitas. _

_Even though they taste good._

_No, seriously, they're awesom-_


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